


A Period of Mourning

by Cithara



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Drama, HP: EWE, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-War, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-05
Updated: 2018-03-05
Packaged: 2019-03-27 10:31:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13879008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cithara/pseuds/Cithara
Summary: Things are different after the war. People, relationships, circumstances have all changed, and Harry finds that he is in mourning for all that he's lost and for the life he feels robbed of. He must find a way to come to terms with his sense of grief and find a way to forge a new path in the wake of the past, whilst also finding a way back to the man he loved all those years ago.





	A Period of Mourning

**Author's Note:**

> This fic parts company with cannon somewhere around Book 6 and ignores Book 7 and the epilogue all together. Please leave a comment and let me know what you thought of it.

A Period of Mourning

Everything was different after the war ended. There had been so much loss and so much devastation that there was no way it could ever go back to the way it had been. The world was another place and everyone had to re-evaluate and redefine their place within it. Some tried to carry on as they had before, but most resigned themselves to adjusting to a future that they had never intended.

Hogwarts, disbanded a year before the war and previously used as a military headquarters, was re-opened as a school once more and welcomed new students in the September, nearly a year to the day since the war had ended. It had taken extensive refurbishment to get it back to a state where it was fit for purpose, but it seemed as though the entirety of the wizarding community had banded together to get the job done. Somehow, it seemed important to everyone that if their lives were to be rebuilt, then they needed to start with Hogwarts. It wasn’t the same, it never would be with so many bastions of the past missing and so many obviously empty places at the dining tables in the Great Hall or in the classrooms of the school. People did their best to adjust, to get on with it.

Severus Snape, a free and exonerated man, indeed a hailed war hero, was the new headmaster. He had objected at first and tried to persuade McGonagall to take the position instead but she had refused, opting not only to decline the promotion, but to retire altogether. Severus understood, the thought had occurred to him too, but he had nowhere else to go and, if he were honest, nothing else to do. Hogwarts had been his home for longer than he cared to think to think about and his job had been the thing that had kept him sane throughout the turmoil of his former years.

It seemed that Harry felt much the same way. The boy had never left and, it seemed, never intended to. He had stayed there all through the castle’s incarnation as a headquarters and when the war was over, when his hideously monstrous task was complete, he simply carried on staying there, surrounded by rubble and burnt out classrooms. He had taken a set of rooms on the 7th floor, a few corridors down from the Room of Requirement, and had taken a quiet sort of pride in making them his own. Severus had assured him that the situation needn’t change, that Hogwarts would be his own no matter what.

Of all the things that were different since the war, Severus and Harry’s relationship was one of them. The school had disbanded after Harry’s 6th year when it seemed unconscionable to continue teaching pointless lessons when people were dying around them and when war was on their doorstep. Most students had returned home, either to stay in England and fight in their own way with their families, or to flee abroad, hoping the terror wouldn’t follow them.

There were some, however, who stayed. After having been unmasked, once and for all, as a traitor to Voldemort, Severus somehow became the de-facto leader of the Hogwarts contingent, along with Harry, who had had enough of being treated like a weapon ready and waiting to be wheeled out when the time was right. A fairly large group of the older Gryffindors stayed behind, Ron and Hermione damned if they were going to be dragged away after all they had been through with Harry. Hermione’s parents, along with the whole Weasley clan came to take refuge in the castle, and so too did Draco Malfoy.

Some were surprised, but Harry and Hermione had been aware of the boy’s relationship with Ron, and that if it meant defying his family and his lineage to stay and fight with him, then that was what he was going to do.

Severus and Harry had quickly learnt to work together. They were tired, bone-achingly tired of it all, and their common ground turned out to be a shared desperate need for it all to be over, one way or another. It turned out that that wasn’t all they had in common. The looks, the long, piercingly tense looks that passed between them were unbearable, the moments they were alone punctuated by all the things they refused to say to each other, all the things they refused to do. It had driven Harry mad. He had known what they both wanted, but Severus just wouldn’t, wouldn’t allow either of them to give into it.

Harry had been convinced it was his age. It hadn’t mattered that Hogwarts wasn’t a school anymore, or that he was no longer a student, but he was still only 17, and to Severus, he could imagine that mattered a great deal. He had thought perhaps the night before the final battle might be the moment when he finally allowed himself to give in, and they had come close, so bloody close, but Severus had pulled back at the last minute.

When he had allowed himself to think about it, Harry was grateful. It meant that Severus believed that there would be a tomorrow, that that night wasn’t the last they were going to spend alive, able to give in to everything they wanted to. He believed that they would have to face each other again, that there were no goodbyes that needed saying and that thought alone gave Harry more strength than he had imagined possible.

After everything was over and there was nothing more that could be done, no more dead left to bury and no more soul-crushing matters of post-war bureaucracy to attend to, Harry had chucked a few things in a bag and had left. He had had no particular destination in mind, and he intended to keep it that way. He went where his feet took him, doing his best to try and forget everything, to leave it behind with his ruined, traumatised 17-year-old self.

He couldn’t though. He couldn’t forget, he couldn’t grow, he couldn’t move on. He was rooted to that time, that one final day where death rang in his ears, invaded his nostrils, bastardised his sight. He remembered watching Fred and Charlie Weasley die, seeing Luna blinded, watching Dean take the spell to his spine that meant the boy would never walk again. He remembered the screams, the smell of blood and burning flesh, the terror in every face he saw and the horrible, imploring hope that flashed in everyone’s eyes when they saw him.

It didn’t matter where he went, the many many miles he put between himself and Hogwarts and everyone he held dear, the faces of the dead followed him. He had hoped that once it was all over that the nightmares would stop, but they didn’t, they only got worse. People had murmured words like ‘post-traumatic stress’ in his direction once or twice, and he wasn’t about to argue with them, but neither did he want to sit in some nice little therapist’s office, spilling his guts and having a good cry about everything that made him want to rip his skin off.

What would a therapist know anyway? All they had were their books, their theories, their notions of how the human mind worked, how it coped under stress, how it was affected by horror. But it wasn’t the same. It wasn’t the same as living it, as having someone listen who knew just how dreadful it was to hear the same screams night after night, to see the same foul and evil deeds every time you closed your eyes. And so he had come back to Hogwarts, to the one person who did know how it felt, to the one person who didn’t need to have it explained to him.

He had ended up standing outside Severus’s door at an obscenely late hour, knowing that he was going to knock, but taking his time to work up to it, knowing that there was no going back if he didn’t turn around and go straight back to the safety of his rooms.

Severus had opened the door, bleary-eyed surprise crossing his face briefly before he had stepped aside and let Harry in, neither of them saying a word. They had stood, looking at each other for what seemed like an eternity, and Harry had imagined that he could hear both of their hearts thudding, could feel both their pulses raising.

Whatever relationship they might have had before the war, seemed now gone. Whatever way they might have played things out before didn’t happen. There was no kiss, no moment of reunion and nothing warm or emotional at all. Harry refused to let anything get in the way of that moment, of what he wanted from Severus and Severus provided it. Harry had been pushed up against the wall, bracing himself on his palms as he was divested of his clothing, hands roving, moving everywhere as he let himself be taken.

It was his first time, and although Severus knew that, and made sure to be careful, he wasn’t gentle. Harry welcomed it more than anything he’d ever felt in his life. He welcomed the pain with each thrust, each moment of feeling Severus move inside him as strong, rough hands held his shoulders tightly, nails digging into his flesh. He concentrated on the pain, completely overtaken by it, feeling very much as though he deserved it, as though his body had needed it more than anything that had happened since he’d killed Voldemort.

He had almost resented the moment Severus’s hand had snaked round and taken hold of him, grasping firmly and moving in sure, swift strokes, before he came hard, feeling Severus follow moments later. They had stayed like that for only a moment, heavy rasping breaths breaking the silence, Severus’s forehead resting on his shoulder as his own pressed into the wall, his hair sticking in sweaty, clumpy patches across it.

He had said nothing after, just grabbed his wand, cleaned himself up and jammed himself back into his clothes, casting a guarded look back at Severus, who himself said nothing, merely nodded before Harry turned and walked out.

He went back a few days later, not having seen him since, whether by design or accident, he wasn’t sure. It was late but Severus was up, and Harry had wondered if he’d been expecting him. Again, there were no words, no kisses, nothing remotely tender. Harry had pushed Severus into one of his imposing armchairs, banished the man’s clothing then had sunk to his knees and taken Severus’ erection all the way to the back of this throat.

Everything else was suddenly chased away and Harry didn’t even bother to wonder whether or not he was doing it right, to wonder whether or not he should be self-conscious. The hand that had gripped his hair painfully and the sharp intake of breaths every few moments answered whatever questions he might have had, and there was a part of him, somewhere in a distant recess in his mind, that was completely awed that he could make Severus make those noises.

He had sucked and licked, teased and tortured, enjoying every moment of it, every moment where he didn’t have to think about anything but the deeply involving task at hand and those wonderful noises that came from somewhere above his head. Severus had come hard and Harry had swallowed, keeping his head down for a moment while he heard Severus compose himself, his breathing ragged and slightly shaky.

He had stood up, himself painfully hard, and rather than stay and sample whatever relief Severus could offer him, he had simply turned and left, practically running all the way back to his rooms. Even then he hadn’t let himself have any relief, didn’t let his hand wander below the waistband of his trousers, he had simply sat there, taking a perverse pleasure in denying himself any release, in giving himself something to make it feel better.

And so it was for a little while. Harry would arrive, normally at an indecently late hour, and Severus would let him in. It was different every time but it was never loving, never gentle, although on most occasions it was passionate. They never exchanged a single kiss, but kisses there were; those achingly torturous ones that marked a trail along the inner thighs, teasing their way to their destination, or those bruising, possessive ones along the neck and shoulders that hurt before and after and left little marks that had to be disguised the next day.

It wasn’t what either of them would have chosen a year or so ago, but it served its purpose. For Harry, it allowed him to feel something other than the bone-aching weariness and sheer disillusionment he had experienced since the war, and for Severus, he imagined it allowed him to feel, full stop. It was perhaps cowardly, but Harry didn’t really want to spend time dwelling on the reasons, he didn’t want to think of anything that would get in the way of those night time visits.

It was the end of just such a night time visit, when Harry was doing up the buckle on his belt and Severus was shrugging himself back into his shirt. Harry turned to leave, his hand on the door knob, when he heard Severus say,

“Harry.” 

He turned around, expression questioning. They had said little to each other since Harry had been back from his travels and Harry was unsure how, or even if, that should change.

“Do you…do you want a drink?” Severus asked quietly.

Harry paused for a moment. He rubbed the back of his neck and took a look around the room, a testament to the chaos that had just occurred. They used to talk, they used to spend whole evenings just talking, but that had been a long time ago. Still, whatever he tried to tell himself, he missed it.

He nodded. “Yeah, yeah ok then,” he said.

He moved away from the door and threw his jumper down on the sofa while Severus finished buttoning up his shirt. “What do you want?” Severus asked.

“Um…wine, wine would be good thanks. I’m not much of spirit drinker.”

“I remember,” Severus said softly, and moved to the corner of the room to a delicate cabinet. He selected a bottle and pulled out a couple of glasses, moving back over the sofa. He gestured for Harry to sit down and he poured them both a decent sized glass, handing one to Harry as he took a seat beside him.

“Cheers,” said Harry, raising his glass slightly.

They were silent for a moment, each taking a considered sip of the wine, Harry rolling it around on his tongue, wondering if Severus had actually remembered that he liked merlot, or if the selection had been accidental. 

It was like they were strangers, Harry thought, which was ridiculous considering the position they had been in only a few moments prior. He used to be able to speak to Severus, he used to look forward to doing so and he guarded the memories of their conversations jealously.

“I’m off to Norway in a couple of days,” he said, finding a need to break the silence.

“Oh?” Severus asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Draco put me in touch with a friend of his who has some kind of magical self-sailing boat thing,” Harry said, aware of how daft he sounded. “I’m going to go and do the Fjords.”

“You’re quite the traveller these days.”

Harry snorted. “Yeah well, what’s that thing people say about those who can’t put down roots?” He shook his head, now wasn’t the time for that conversation. “Any tips?”

“For Norway? Well, knowing your preference for countryside over towns I would suggest steering clear of somewhere like Stavanger, head for Flam, you’ll like Flam. Also Bergen, it’s a busy place but if you head up on the funicular out of town you can get to some stunning walks,” said Severus, swirling his wine around in its glass.

Harry smiled. Severus remembered he liked walking. He sipped his drink and let that little snippet of information dance across his brain. 

“Are you sure you won’t sink?” Severus asked and that glint was back in his eyes, the one that had begun to appear before the war, the teasing look that he had adopted whenever he had spoken to Harry. It was horribly familiar, and it tugged at something in the pit of Harry’s stomach.

He brushed it off and tilted his head, fixing Severus with a smirk and said, “If you can manage a car, I can manage a boat.” 

Severus smiled and Harry realised how long it had been since he’d seen him do that, and that he’d forgotten how much he loved to see the expression on the man’s face. It hurt, and if it hadn’t have also touched those pesky feelings of nostalgia, Harry would have looked away.

“Two very different things, Harry, two very different things,” Severus said, regarding him over the rim of his glass.

Severus had, for some reason best known to himself, purchased a muggle car a couple of months after everything had settled down. He offered no reason to anyone, and indeed no one was brave enough to ask him, but Harry knew that Severus hated apparating, absolutely detested it, and was keen to find himself a method of transportation that was both practical and enjoyable.

“Well, I promise not to drown myself while I’m out there, happy?”

“Very,” Severus said dryly. “How long are you going for?”

Harry shrugged. “Until I get bored, that’s usually the way I do things,” he said. Severus had never once asked him when he was going to stop flitting from one country to another, nor had he made any reference to the fact that Harry had yet to decide on any sort of career and make steps to gain employment, and for that Harry was profoundly grateful.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to work, of course he did. He wanted to be a useful, valuable member of society, and he was well aware that he had the luxury of not needing to work at that moment, and that others were not so fortunate. But he wanted some time to himself before he decided to shackle himself to a desk or become a slave to a 9-5 schedule, he needed to experience a taste of freedom before he let the real world settle itself on his shoulders.

Besides, he had no idea what he wanted to do, and he had had little enough time to give it serious thought. Everyone else seemed to have slotted back into civilian life after the war, and they had either carried on with plans they had made before everything went to hell, or had picked themselves up and taken steps to plant their feet on a new path. Hermione was at university in France, studying magical law with a view to taking the bar and joining a law firm as a defence lawyer. Her penchant for minority rights was the driving force behind that decision, coupled with the injustice she had witnessed before and during the war.

Ron and Draco had settled themselves near the Burrow in a little cottage that a family friend was letting them live in for next to nothing while they got on their feet. Draco had been soundly disinherited and disowned, and as such didn’t have a penny to his name. The Weasleys had become his family and while he was grateful for everything they did for him, he would accept no financial aid from them. He was working part time to try and support himself through medical school, while Ron had been accepted into the Auror training programme.

Harry, however, had no such plans or designs for his own future, and he could feel everyone’s judgement bearing down on him because of that. It was like they were disappointed that the wonder of the wizarding world was content to fade into such comparative ignominy.

“I doubt you could get bored with Norway,” Severus said with a disbelieving smirk.

Harry gave a conceding nod and said, “Alright then, I’ll stay until I get homesick.”

They looked at each other and Harry suddenly felt that sitting having a friendly chat over a drink had been the mistake he had imagined it would be. He drained the rest of his glass, which was a stupid thing to do as there was more than a mouthful left in it, and felt his throat cramp uncomfortably.

“Well, goodnight then,” he said, placing the empty glass on the table and getting to his feet. Severus stayed where he was, looking up at Harry with a guarded expression.

“Goodnight Harry,” he said, and Harry left, standing out in the freezing corridor for a moment or two before he began the walk back to his rooms. 

* * *

Harry jumped slightly as the cork on the champagne bottle was liberated from its prison. He held out his glass and Ron poured in too much, too quickly and it fizzed over the top of the chipped glass and over onto his fingers.

“Sorry!” said Ron with a laugh, moving over to pour Hermione an equally sloppy glass.

“Honestly,” said Draco with an affected sigh. “Have I taught you nothing in all our time together? I thought perhaps you’d have learnt to pour a decent glass of champagne by now.”

“Sorry love,” said Ron with a grin, “looks like you’ve got a lot more to teach me.”

“Well there’ll be plenty of opportunity now you’re getting married,” said Hermione with a smile.

“Have you decided on a date yet?”

“As soon as possible,” said Ron, pulling Draco to his side and wrapping the usual protective arm around his waist. “It’s not like we’re going to have a big fancy wedding, so we don’t really need to save up. It’s just going to be a quiet affair with family and close friends.”

"Sounds perfect,” said Harry, and he meant it, despite the sharp pang of jealousy he felt stabbing him in the chest.

He had always felt envious of Ron and Draco’s relationship, though of course he had confided that to no one. It had just always seemed so easy to him, so natural and without hindrance. He knew that wasn’t the case, not really, they had had their obstacles to overcome as much as any other couple, but there was so much love between them that any difficulties seemed to be surmounted with relative ease. They had such a solid relationship, and Harry had watched them together so many times, feeling a sense of injustice that he didn’t have the same thing.

“It will be if you’ll be Best Man,” said Ron with a smile, then turning to Hermione, said, “And if you’ll be Best Woman.”

“Best Woman?” said Hermione with a laugh.

“I have no intention of choosing between you,” said Ron, “so I’d be delighted if you’d both accept.”

“Of course,” said Hermione, and Harry echoed the sentiment with equal pride and pleasure.

“Who are you having Drake?” he asked.

“I think I’ll ask Severus,” said Draco, and Harry’s stomach tied itself up in the usual knot that occurred when he heard the man’s name.

He nodded, hoping nothing had crossed his face that he didn’t want the others to see, and said, “Good choice, I’m sure he’ll be touched.”

There was silence for a moment. All three knew that the subject of Severus was a touchy subject where Harry was concerned, but none of them actually knew the full extent of it. Anyone who had had a functioning pair of eyes could see what had been going on at the time, back when Harry and Severus had discarded their dislike for each other and had allowed themselves to get to know each other properly, but they were all aware that whatever promise had existed had vanished after the war.

They had no idea of course what was going on between the two men in the Slytherin’s quarters in the small hours of the morning, nor indeed the chats that occurred afterwards, chats that Harry had allowed to continue, despite his better judgement.

“Did you get that essay finished in the end ‘Mione?” asked Ron, and Harry shot him a grateful look.

She groaned and said, “Yes, although I lost a piece of my soul and an even larger piece of my mind along with it. Thankfully I now have a week to recover myself.”

“And we all know how you’ll be spending that,” said Draco with a dramatic wiggle of his eyebrows.

Hermione rolled her eyes and Ron snorted, and Harry was reminded that of course there was another relationship to have his nose rubbed in. Hermione was in fledgling relationship with Scott Glendale, who happened to be the latest DADA teacher at Hogwarts, and whom she had met when he came to live in the castle when it had been disbanded. He was a few years older than the four of them and had a couple of years of work as a field strategist behind him when he had come to Hogwarts, working along Hermione and Remus in tactical endeavours.

After everything, Severus had offered the man the position of DADA professor, and he had gladly accepted. So far, he seemed more than capable and it was rather comforting to know that with Voldemort dead, it was unlikely that he was walking around with him sticking out of the back of his head. Still, Harry supposed Hermione would probably have noticed a thing like that after a few months of dating.

He stayed at Ron and Draco’s little cottage until the small hours, declining the offer of the sofa in favour of returning to his own rooms at Hogwarts. He hadn’t meant to go via the dungeons, it was completely out of the way after all, but his feet took him there regardless of what his mind tried to instruct. It was 3 o’clock in the morning, what was he expecting? He paused outside Severus’s door for a minute and was surprised to hear noise coming from inside.

He weighed up his options and, bolstered by the large quantities of champagne that had been poured down his throat, knocked loudly on the door. There was a pause, an interruption to the noise inside, then the door was opened, Severus standing there in his work clothes, sleeves pulled up to the elbows, wiping stained hands on a rag.

“Hi,” Harry said, his voice sounding strange to his own ears.

“Hi,” Severus returned, obviously wondering why he had the former saviour of the wizarding world standing outside his door looking dishevelled and somewhat confused.

“Why are you up?” Harry asked.

“I’m brewing,” Severus said. “There are a few potions that require overnight attention.”

“Oh, of course,” Harry said, nodding in what he hoped was a sage manner. He should go, he should turn around and go back to his rooms and sleep it off. Nothing good ever came of making stupid decisions long after midnight. “Do you want some help?” he asked before he had the chance to stop himself.

Severus looked at him for a minute and Harry had the horrible feeling that he was going to say no, but eventually he inclined his head slightly and stepped aside to let Harry in. They walked silently back to Severus’s potions lab and Harry removed his outer robe, slinging it over the back of an armchair on his way.

He unbuttoned his cuffs and rolled his sleeves up, bracing his palms on the work surface and surveying the myriad of pots and cauldrons that Severus had bubbling away. He couldn’t stop himself from smiling, it always amazed him just how clever Severus was and just how brilliant he really was when it came to potions.

“If you could chop those roots there into even pieces, roughly one inch long should do,” Severus said, handing him a sharp little knife.

He set about his task as Severus returned his attention to the cauldron in front of him, glancing up every now and then to refer to a large tome that was balanced beside him on a rickety old bookstand, one that had long since seen better days.

“Ron and Draco are getting married,” he said, putting his weight into slicing the sinewy, tough root.

Severus nodded, “I know, Draco wrote to me. It’s a pity I never actually managed to kill Lucius, we’re missing the chance to have him turn in his grave.”

Harry gave a soft laugh and said, “We’ll have to settle for him turning in his cell in Azkaban.” He placed the diced root aside and moved on to the next one, his fingers already aching from holding the knife so tightly. “They’re going to get married at the Burrow, just a small, quiet affair. Draco wants it in the summer, after he’s got his first year of medical school under his belt.”

“Well, if I believed anyone would make it through, it was those two.”

“You old romantic,” Harry teased and Severus shot him a withering look, which only served to amuse him more. “I know what you mean though,” he said softly, “they’re just so obviously in love aren’t they?”

Severus nodded and Harry felt that painful, wrenching feeling in the pit of his stomach once again, and he pushed his knife through the root a little harder than was necessary, clenching his jaw as he did so. Talking about Ron and Draco only made it worse, it only made it more apparent that things weren’t like that for them, were nowhere near the same, and Harry realised with painful clarity that while he was still in mourning for everything that had happened, he was also mourning everything that hadn’t.

He felt hot tears prick his eyes and he clenched his jaw harder, hurting his teeth. He was aware that Severus was looking at him and he shook his head, refusing to look up.

“Harry,” Severus said softly. Again he shook his head. “Harry.” More insistent this time, but Harry still wouldn’t look up, he couldn’t, couldn’t let Severus see those treacherous, exposing tears that he was trying desperately to keep from falling.

“I can’t do this,” he whispered, putting down the knife and making for the door.

He felt a hand on his wrist heard the softly whispered, “Stay”. His breathing was quick and his heart thudded uncomfortably against his chest. He continued to stand facing the door, and the hand on his wrist moved up to his shoulder.

“I shouldn’t have started coming here,” he said quietly. “It was a mistake.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“It’s so hard,” he said shakily.

“I know.”

“Being here with you, helping you work, talking to you about everyday stuff…it’s…it’s like I’m making fun of myself, doing a ridiculous imitation of what we used to have. It’s twisted.”

Severus was silent behind him and Harry shook his head, moving once more for the door handle, but the hand on his shoulder held him back. He couldn’t have this conversation, he couldn’t face up to those things that he was trying so desperately hard not to let resurface. He turned around, the pain and anger clearly evident on his face. He moved so that their positions were reversed and he backed Severus up so that he was pushed against the door.

“This is your solution?” Severus asked, his black eyes shining.

“It’s the only one I’ve got,” Harry said harshly. “Do you want me to stop?”

Severus paused then shook his head and Harry descended to his knees, looking up defiantly at the man as he unzipped his trousers and took his hard length in his hand, moving forward to wrap his mouth around it. He kept one hand on the base of the man’s erection and the other on his hip, pinning him firmly to the spot as he began his attack. He was relentless and unforgiving, and he didn’t allow Severus any chance pull back or to try and hold on to his senses. The usual hand came to twine itself in his hair and he could hear his name being exhaled softly from above. He’d imagined hearing Severus make that noise so many times before but oh how the circumstances of his fantasies had been different.

In those blissfully naïve dreams, Severus had held him, kissed him, lowered him to a bed and made love to him. In this grey reality they’d never gone anywhere near a bed and all those moments of shared ecstasy he’d imagined had been replaced by these cold, mechanical ones.

Severus came, shuddering his release as Harry swallowed, tasting the salty bitterness as it made its way down his throat. Severus’ shaky hands moved to tuck himself back into his trousers and Harry got to his feet, his knees hurting from the hard stone floor. Severus moved aside from the door, obviously knowing there was no point now in trying to keep Harry there, and the boy moved past him, leaving without even a glance back. 

* * *

He left the next day, chucked a load of things into his trusty travel bag and apparating to Egypt. He didn’t know why he’d chosen Egypt; perhaps it was because he’d caught a glimpse of the book he’d bought Severus ages ago on obscure potions from Ancient Egypt, a book that looked as though it had been well read several times and that had been given pride of place on the book shelf that the man kept only for texts he thought were particularly outstanding.

He saw all the things that he supposed he was meant to see whilst in one of the most beautiful and interesting countries of the world, and although he did stand in awe whilst looking at the temple of Abu Simbel and had agreed with his guide that the temple of Edfu practically breathed history, it didn’t impress him enough to stop his mind from working through the things he was begging it not to.

He spent some time with Bill and Fleur, who had moved there on a temporary basis while Bill finished his contract as a curse breaker. It was nice to spend time with people who didn’t know him as well as Ron and Hermione, people who wouldn’t comment on every distant look or quiet mood, content to let him be, as he was a polite and considerate house guest. It did him some good to talk about things that had nothing to do with Hogwarts, or Severus, and he was happy to be introduced to the little community of magic folk they had surrounded themselves with out there, who, whilst knowing who he was of course, didn’t look at him in the same way people did back home.

But he couldn’t stay out there forever, even he knew that, and so he returned, as he knew he would, to Hogwarts, and headed straight for Severus’ quarters, despite everything in his head screaming at him not to. He was barely through the door when he found himself braced against the wall, divested of his clothing and being well and truly screwed. Severus’ hand was hot and rough as it pinned his own in place, his fingers laced through Harry’s while his lips left devastating kisses along his shoulder and up his throat, while his other hand carried out its practiced ministrations on his straining prick.

It felt wonderful, horribly, painfully wonderful, and part of him wanted to stay like that, with Severus deep inside him, moving in those delightfully torturous thrusts, closer to him than anyone else in the world had ever been, closer than they could ever be in the harsh light of day. It was so good to be able to turn his mind off, to focus only on that present moment and nothing else, to lose himself in his body’s reactions, and when he finally did come, with Severus following close behind, he felt bereft. He thought that he felt a gentle, featherlight kiss pressed to the nape of his neck as Severus withdrew, but his mind was so hazy that it was easy to tell himself he was mistaken.

He stood for a moment, leaning against the wall, feeling the ache of no longer having Severus inside him, snapping out of it when he heard the jangle of Severus’s belt as the man pulled his clothes back on again. He reached for his own and dressed in silence, his eyes falling on his travel bag that he had slung in the corner. He yanked his shirt on over his head and picked up the bag, rummaging around inside it until he found what he was looking for, setting it down on the table and quietly enlarging it.

“It’s for you,” he said quietly, finally looking up at Severus, who looked down to see that it was in fact a rather beautiful bronze bookstand. “Your old one’s seen better days,” he said with a smile.

Severus moved to the table and picked the stand up, turning it over in his hands as he examined it. “It’s exquisite,” he said softly.

“I found it in a little market that Bill took me to, one that was well away from the tourists and actually sold decent stuff, rather than all that tat they flog for a 50% mark up. Do you like it?” he asked, suddenly nervous to hear the answer.

“I do. Thank you,” Severus said, looking up and meeting Harry’s eyes properly for the first time since Harry had walked through the door. It hit Harry like a punch to the gut and all he could do was stare back, drinking in the sight of the man.

He slung his bag back onto his shoulder and went to the door, pausing to turn slightly back towards Severus before saying in a voice barely above a whisper, “I missed you.” He was gone before he could see Severus’s reaction, or hear what he might have said in response.

* * *

“Do you actually know what you’re doing, or are you digging up perfectly good flowers?”

Harry glanced up and saw Severus standing above him, holding out a mug of something steaming. He chucked his trowel down and gave his hands a cursory wipe on his tatty old jeans before standing up and accepting the mug. “Of course I know what I’m doing, and I intend to make this sorry patch look a damn sight better.”

They were round by the east wing of the castle, in an area that had been left to go somewhat to ruin, as had most of the landscaping duties where Hogwarts was concerned. Hagrid was doing his best to bring the whole place back up to scratch again, but understandably things like the gardens hadn’t been foremost in people’s minds when they were reinstating the castle to its former glory.

They moved to sit on a rickety old bench and Harry took a grateful sip of his coffee. “Mm, that’s lovely,” he said. “Whatever anyone says about you, they can’t knock your taste in coffee.”

Severus snorted and said, “So what exactly are your plans for this place then?”

“Over there will be a patch of tulips, then over there will be camellia bush and a deep red clematis. I’m planting a Virginia Creeper to grow up that wall and Neville’s getting me a few maples to plant over there,” he said, pointing his mug in the general direction. “The whole place needs injecting with some colour and life again, like it used to have,” he said with a sad smile.

“You do love a project,” said Severus, with a look that Harry realised most would interpret as fond.

“Yeah well, gotta have something to keep me out of trouble.”

Severus raised an eyebrow and said, “There is nothing in the world that could keep you out of trouble.”

Harry smiled said, “You’d know.” Severus inclined his head and Harry stretched his legs out in front of him, crossing them at the ankles. “So, any plans for the Easter holidays?” he asked.

Conversation was still not easy between them, not as it had once been, and it made him ache sometimes to think how many hours he had spent in Severus’s company, talking companionably, laughing and joking, teasing each other and learning things about one another that they had never bothered to find out before.

“I’m going to a little place in Cumbria for the two weeks,” Severus said, surprising Harry. As far as he’d known, Severus had never really been one for holidays, but then he hadn’t really had much opportunity in the time that Harry had known him properly. “There’s this cottage that belongs to an old friend, I’ve been going to it for years. It’s in the middle of nowhere, it’s a good place to get away from everything.”

“Sounds nice,” said Harry, slinging an arm behind his head and leaning back against the wall. “I’ve always liked Cumbria.”

There was a beat, a momentary pause, and Harry could have sworn that he heard the wheels in Severus’ head turning before the man said softly, “Do you want to come?”

“Do I…what?” Harry asked, although he had heard the question perfectly.

“Do you want to come?” Severus repeated levelly, meeting Harry’s eyes openly.

“I…” he paused and bit his lip, his pulse speeding up, making his mouth dry. “I’m going to stay with Ron and Draco for a few days, seeing as Draco’s got some time off from medical school.” Severus nodded, as though he had expected the answer would be just that. “But I could come for the last few days,” he said, surprising them both.

He did indeed go and stay with his friends for the first week, Draco glad not to be left to his own devices too much, as Ron was only able to wangle a couple of days free from his training programme. Draco was easy company, and he was immensely fond of the former Slytherin, which seemed to be something of a personality quirk with him. It would have been impossible for him not to feel an affinity with someone who so obviously adored Ron and was so good for him.

It still seemed odd to him that Draco was training to be a doctor, but the blond was completely dedicated to his studies and to Harry it seemed that he had the makings of a fine medi-wizard. He truly cared about people and it was as though he was trying to put right all the mistakes he had made by giving as much back as he possibly could. His and Ron’s cottage was a testament to his commitment to his choice of calling, everywhere you went were vast medical tomes, folders full of notes and scribbles from his study sessions and various diagrams pinned to the walls and cupboards.

The weather stayed fine and on one of Ron’s free days they packed up a picnic and spent the day walking in the nearby woodland, joined by Hermione and Scott, whose budding romance seemed to be growing from strength to strength. He enjoyed the relaxed and comfortable feel of the day, but as usual he ended up feeling like a fifth wheel amongst the deliriously happy couples, who did their best not to be too loved up around him.

It was with some relief that he said his farewells the following evening and apparated to the co-ordinates Severus had given him. The man hadn’t been wrong, the place was in the middle of nowhere, but what a beautiful nowhere to be in the middle of. The hills rose high above his head, craggy and majestic, and a little way down the track he was on, he could see the cottage nestled under the shadow of the peaks.

He walked slowly towards it, smiling as he took in the detail of it. It looked old, all funny angles and bowed walls, with painted blue shutters and a well-kept thatched roof. There was a lovely little garden to the side of it, with an iron table and two chairs in the middle and a pretty little apple tree that was just starting to come out in blossom. He moved up to the front door, polished wood with black hinges and a large black knocker, and took a deep breath before he rattled it nosily.

He felt himself smile shyly as Severus opened the door and he handed him the bottle of wine he had brought, which Severus received with a quiet “Thanks”, before welcoming Harry inside. His smile grew as he took a look around the place, never imagining that this would have been the sort of place Severus would choose to escape to. It was far from twee, but it had a certain country charm to it with its big comfy armchairs and matching sofa in the living room, which were positioned around a large wood burner.

On the opposite side of the room, beneath the window, was a compact little dining table with a couple of chairs wedged underneath it, and Harry could just spy a quaint kitchen through the door that led off behind it. There was another door on the far wall, and Harry supposed it must lead to the bedroom and bathroom.

“Well this is lovely,” said Harry, placing his bag down by the sofa. “How long have you been coming here?”

“A few years now. The owner lives a couple of miles away, she always reserves it for me over Easter, Christmas too unless I write to tell her otherwise.”

“You spend Christmas here by yourself?” Harry asked softly.

Severus nodded. “Unless I’m expressly required to stay at the castle, which I have been on a number of occasions. Here’s as good as place as any to spend Christmas.”

“Yes, yes I suppose it is,” Harry replied, feeling a stupid, protective pang in his chest at thinking of Severus spending Christmas all alone.

“Are you hungry?” Severus asked, shaking him out of it.

Harry grinned. “I’m always hungry.”

Severus rolled his eyes. “Make yourself comfortable then and I’ll go and finish dinner. Open up that bottle of wine,” he instructed, disappearing off into the kitchen.

Harry rummaged around in the drawers for a corkscrew and liberated two, rather quaint, wine goblets from the farmhouse-style cabinet in the corner of the room, deciding to set the table with the crockery he found in there too. He poured himself and Severus a glass and was standing, sipping his own and perusing the bookcase when Severus reappeared and dished up their dinner.

“Why am I not surprised you can cook?” Harry asked as he tasted the stew.

Severus shrugged and said, “Cooking isn’t too far removed from potion brewing, it isn’t too hard to transfer the skills.”

“A man of many talents,” Harry muttered, blushing when Severus raised an eyebrow at him. “So,” he said, clearing his throat, “what do you normally do while you stay here?”

“It depends,” said Severus, stirring his food. “Often I come here to write articles for the potions journals that I guest edit, or to catch up on research. It’s also a beautiful spot for walking.”

“Well there’s something I’d like to do, fancy going tomorrow?” he asked, then realised he’d been the one to suggest, to instigate. Well, what did he think was going to happen coming all the way out here, just the two of them?

Severus nodded and said, “Yes, yes that would be agreeable.”

“You said you brought research up here, is that what you’re doing this time?”

“I have a lot to catch up on, I’ve let a lot slide since…well…in the last year or so.”

Harry couldn’t help but smile and said, “Do you mean to tell me that in between fighting a war, helping to defeat Voldemort and rebuilding the foundations of wizarding society that you’ve managed to let your research slip? Severus, I’m ashamed of you.”

Severus snorted and they both looked across the table at one another, and it was the first time that they had looked at one another without their many guards up, without anything conflicting having come before. Oh that hurt, Harry thought as he reached for his wine, that horrible reminder of those evenings they used to have together that were so easy and natural, that passed by in flash and ended with those deliciously sweet moments where Harry wondered if that night would finally be the night where Severus leant over and kissed him.

They finished their dinner and Harry insisted on doing the washing up, though Severus generously conceded to do all the drying. They finished one bottle and made their way onto another, moving back to the sitting room and to the fire that had been lit to chase the unusually cold March night away. Conversation flowed for the first time, and although it was obvious both of them were keeping to the safest topics imaginable, it was painfully wonderful to be able to just talk and to listen, without having to think, or calculate and manipulate things so that the awkwardness wouldn’t be so obvious.

Severus showed him the research he had brought with him and Harry said that he would happy to help, being, after all, so much more organised than Severus. That comment had earned him a friendly shove and Harry had tried to stop himself from remembering all the times that Severus had done that in the past, usually with a fondly muttered “Brat” under his breath.

The night wore on and eventually Severus rubbed at his face tiredly, saying, “Time to call it a night. The bedroom’s through there, I’ll take the sofa.”

“Don’t be daft, this is your holiday, I’m just piggybacking. I’ll take the sofa.”

“I’m perfectly happy to – ”

“Severus I’ll stand here and argue with you all night, you know I will. I couldn’t possibly let someone of your advanced years spend the night on a rickety old sofa,” he finished with a grin.

“I’m 39 you cheeky sod,” Severus said, folding his arms. “You’re the guest, you should take the bed.”

“Well that’s just tough isn’t it? I’ll be sleeping on the sofa, so unless you want to join me, I suggest you leave me to it and help yourself to the big comfy bed.”ilence. Of course there was silence, he’d just suggested that Severus climb onto the sofa with him and what? Spoon until they both fell asleep? That was likely wasn’t it? He could just imagine that, the two of them curled up together, warmed by the dying embers of the fire as they drifted off together. But that was the problem, the sodding awful problem. He could well imagine that, he could imagine it just as vividly as the first time he’d imagined it, well over a year ago when he had been in Severus’s rooms, seeking some solitude from the mad rush of the castle and he’d imagined how it would feel to have Severus ask him to stay, to climb into the man’s bed and to lie curled around one another all night.

He rubbed at the back of his neck, convinced that if he continued to do so he would have very little skin left there. “I’ll be fine, really. I’ve slept on a lot worse. One of these days I’ll tell you the story about the time I slept in a crate on a freight train through Morocco.”

Severus gave a soft laugh and the tension seemed to break. “Very well then, I’ll see you in the morning. I don’t suppose you sleep until midday anymore?” he asked with a teasing glint in his eye.

Harry smiled and said, “If you promise to make me a decent breakfast, then I promise to get up at a decent hour.”

“Deal.” 

* * *

They spent the next few days in such easy companionship that Harry began to wonder if someone had placed them both under some sort of spell. In the mornings they set off on one of the many footpaths that were littered around the cottage, returning for a spot of lunch and then dedicating the afternoon to Severus’s research. Harry tasked himself with organising all of Severus’s notes and writing down whatever dictations Severus made, while Severus waded through huge potions tomes and tatty old bits of parchments and scrolls, that looked as though they may well have been passed down from the world’s first Potions Master.

In the evenings they both tackled the cooking and ate their dinner at the little table, although one evening the weather had been kind enough to allow them to dine outside in the pretty garden. Conversation continued to come easily to them and Harry remembered just what good company Severus could be when he felt like it. At the time, people had been confused that Harry had chosen to spend so much time with the Potions Master, but he had always known that not many people got to see the side of the man that for some reason he had chosen to show Harry.

Harry saw that side of him again as they stayed in the cottage, and he found himself retreating to the person he had been back then, the person who genuinely found everything that Severus said to be interesting, who just wanted to be able to sit in his company and listen to all the things he had to say. Night times were hard though, and he knew Severus was getting little more sleep than he was, as he could hear the man pace around in the bedroom, long after he had retreated behind the door.

It would have been so easy to just go in there, to open the door and face him, but he couldn’t, he just couldn’t bring himself to do it. He had wanted to so many times as he lay there, cuddled into a blanket and watching the fire die away, just picturing what would happen, the possibility of what lay behind that door. But he had stopped himself, refused to let himself do it, because the fear of it all gripped him too tightly. There were so many what ifs that held him firmly in place and although he stopped himself, he couldn’t stop his treacherous mind from examining all those painful possibilities.

He remembered now how it had felt at the time, how it had felt to have their hands brush or to realise that throughout an evening they had moved closer and closer together on the sofa so that their knees were touching. He remembered how he had felt back then when the promise of so many things lingered in the air and how his mind had tormented him with everything that he would like to do and say. It was the same now, but much, much worse because he knew that those possibilities were so very far away, almost so far as to be gone altogether.

On their last night in the cottage, after dinner had been eaten and everything cleared away, they sat on the floor, their backs against the sofa, staring into the fire as they spoke. Yet another of the wine bottles Severus had brought with him had been liberated from the cupboard and they sat side by side, doing a grand job of making it disappear.

After a while Severus cleared his throat and said, “Harry, I have a proposition for you.”

Harry raised an eyebrow and regarded Severus over the rim of his glass. “An indecent proposal? Aren’t we a little past that?” he asked, the wine making him bolder than he normally felt.

Severus gave him a deeply unimpressed look and Harry laughed, saying, “I’m sorry, go ahead. What proposition do you have for me?”

Severus shifted slightly and turned himself round to face Harry better. “I don’t know if you’re aware, but when Hermione transfers her course to America next year, Scott intends to go with her. He’s been offered a position in the wizarding intelligence agency out there and I gather he’s keen to get back into his previous role as a field strategist.”

Harry shook his head and said, “Geez, you just can’t keep a DADA teacher can you? I’m starting to think that position really is cursed.”

“Well, I hope you don’t take that old wives’ tale too seriously,” Severus said, rubbing at his chin, “because I was wondering if you’d like to fill the post?”

Harry blinked at him for a few moments, slightly stunned and unable to rally his thoughts into a sensible order. “What?” he asked finally.

Severus smiled and rested his elbow up on the sofa, leaning his head on his hand as he looked at Harry. “You once told me that the happiest and most content you’d ever felt was when you headed up Dumbledore’s Army. You said it gave you a sense of purpose that you’d never felt before and that the pride you felt when someone mastered a spell was unlike anything you’d ever felt before.”

He had said that. He’d said it word for word one night when Severus had asked him if he was going to become an Auror as everyone had expected him to. He’d told Severus that he didn’t really know what he wanted to do, but that the only time he’d a spark of enthusiasm for a future career had been when he’d been in charge of the DA, and that he believed he possibly had a knack for teaching. Severus had actually remembered that?

“That’s…that’s true…but it doesn’t mean – ”

Severus held up a hand. “It’s just an offer,” he said. “I wanted to give you first refusal before I advertised the position. You don’t have to answer now, but just think about it.”

Of course he would think about it. It would be impossible not to. Did he want to become a teacher? I would mean giving up on flitting off to far flung places whenever he felt like it, having to restrict his travels to term time alone. It would also mean developing a strict schedule and sticking to it, something he’d been rather keen to avoid up until now. However, he had been feeling worse and worse about the fact that he had no real purpose from one day to the next, and if he were to become a Hogwarts teacher, it would mean that he had a valid reason to stay in the place he loved so well, close to the person he…close to Severus.

He was jolted from his musing by long fingers brushing the hair aside from his forehead and he looked up to see Severus looking at him with a strange smile. “I can hear the wheels of your head turning,” he said softly.

“You used to tell me my head was empty,” Harry said, unconsciously leaning into the touch of those fingers.

“I’ve been known to be wrong.”

“You’ve never been known to admit it,” Harry said with a grin, and those wonderful fingers kept brushing his forehead, sending jolts through all of Harry’s nerve endings. It was so familiar, so achingly familiar and he felt caught between contentment and anxiety. In these moments it was as though the rest of the world just didn’t exist, which had been just how he had felt all that time ago, when Severus would just look at him and everything else would stop.

There had been so many moments back then of shared touches, meaningful looks and the constant search for opportunities to be alone together. He could remember the feel of Severus’s hand on the small of his back as they stood reading the latest letter from a scouting party together, or the brush of his fingers over his neck as he passed by him in the corridor, a brief but wonderful touch that served to let Harry know that he was near. He had lived for those touches, so innocent, so seemingly inconsequential, and yet full of meaning.

Those touches were long since gone though, and all they had now were moments of fraught, bitter sex up against walls, with all thoughts of innocence and affection seemingly banished. But this, the gentle movement of Severus’s fingers against his skin, so unrelated to sex, or to the harsh things that had occurred between them since, was a new kind of bliss to Harry.

“I’ll take it,” he said suddenly, his voice hoarse.

“I beg your pardon?” Severus said, confused.

“The job, the role of DADA teacher, I’ll take it,” he said, his mind apparently making itself up before he could stomp in and ruin things.

“Are you sure?”

Harry nodded. “Yes, yes I’m sure. I honestly can’t think of anything that would make me happier.”

Severus smiled and said, “Well, then that calls for a celebratory toast.” And then the fingers were gone as he got up to retrieve a bottle of something to raise to Harry’s decision. He didn’t stop to think if he had done the right thing, he didn’t need to, something in the part of his mind that still trusted himself told him that it was a good idea, and that it would be wise not to argue. 

* * *

“I still can’t believe it, Harry Potter is going to be a teacher, what the bloody hell has the world come to?” asked Ron as they all sat in Harry’s quarters, Severus included, a couple of weeks before Ron and Draco’s wedding. It was a sort of stag do, or at least the nearest thing that both men would concede to as neither were interested in jetting off to Amsterdam and wasting money they didn’t have on nonsense they didn’t enjoy.

“I think it makes perfect sense,” said Hermione with a smile. “You were a wonderful teacher back in 5th year, and I know you’ll be a wonderful teacher now.”

"Well Sev, maybe you’ll get this one to stay longer than six months eh?” said Ron, who was the only one, for some unknown reason, who could get away with calling the man ‘Sev’ without getting his testicles hexed off.

"I’m sure it won’t be a problem,” Severus replied, shooting Harry a look, which Harry pretended he hadn’t seen.

 _Of course you don’t think it will be a problem you old bugger_ , Harry thought, _you’re the main reason I’ve taken the bloody job_. It was partly true, although he genuinely wanted to try his hand at teaching and see if he could perhaps give it a decent go, but the main reason, whether he liked it or not, was to stay and be close to Severus whilst having a pretext to do so.

Things were no easier between them, but they managed to speak more freely with one another, and their conversations were less awkward, less forced. The time they had spent at the cottage together had done them both good, and it was only when Harry returned to the castle that he realised they hadn’t had sex once while they’d been there and that thought was both strange and comforting to him.

They had remedied that back at the castle, however, and their strange routine had continued, with one of them braced up against the wall, while the other set about their task, but more often than not Harry would stay afterwards and they would share a drink, and continue to try to mend those rickety, smoke-damaged old bridges.

“In all seriousness though mate, well done, I’m really pleased for you,” said Ron, “this is where you belong.”

“Here here,” said Draco. “You’ll be marvellous Harry, the best DADA professor Hogwarts has ever seen.”

Harry snorted and said, “Given the competition, that won’t exactly be hard.”

“Don’t put yourself down,” said Hermione, “you’re going to be brilliant. I’m so proud of you.”

“Thanks,” said Harry, blushing slightly. “So, is everything sorted for the wedding?” he asked, eager to take the focus off himself.

“Mm,” said Draco, licking chocolate off his thumb, “just about everything. We just need to go and pick up our dress robes in a couple of days. Were those alterations on yours ok?” he asked and Harry nodded.

“Yes, perfect,” said Harry. “I look amazing, if I say so myself,” he said with a grin. “I’ll show you both up.”

“With these Pureblood cheekbones? I think not,” said Draco, doing a grand impression of his former, arrogant self.

They all laughed and the night continued to be one of nonsense and companionship. They all drank far too much, even Severus, for whom being so undisciplined wasn’t easy, and by the end of the night, they were all cursing Harry for his liberal topping up of all their glasses. They finally said their goodbyes in the early hours of the morning, Hermione and Draco managing a very merry Ron between them, as he tried to remember the words to an X-rated song the twins had taught him years ago.

“That boy drinks like a fish,” said Severus, pushing aside the rest of his drink.

“It’s a family thing, you should see Ginny, she can drink them all under the table,” Harry said, leaning back into the sofa. The room seemed to echo loudly now that the others were gone and he was very aware that he and Severus were sitting close to each other of the sofa. His head was swimming and he cursed his decision to go head to head with Ron downing shots of tequila. “I still can’t believe they’re getting married…well I mean I can of course, but it’s just come round so quickly.”

“They didn’t want to wait I suppose, after everything that’s happened, coming through the war, losing so many people, I can understand them wanting to just get on with it.”

“Can you?” Harry asked, looking at him carefully. “You can understand the way they feel about each other?”

“Of course I can,” said Severus with a frown.

Harry gave a mirthless laugh and said, “And I suppose you can sit with both of them for an entire evening and not feel a wretched sense of envy when you look at how happy they are, and then curse yourself for being such a twisted, bitter little person.”

He rose unsteadily to his feet and started to clear away the empty glasses and bottles, clattering them nosily and tripping over things as he went. “Is that how you feel?” Severus asked softly.

“Of course it is,” Harry harshly, turning back around to face him. “And I hate myself for it. I hate how every time I see them I feel as though I have a hand gripping my throat, I hate how all I can think about is that it’s so unfair that they’re happy and I’m…I’m not. I don’t know how I became this…” he said, the anger suddenly leaving him, replaced with a horrible, deep ache, somewhere deep in his chest. “I hate how everything has changed since the war,” he said in a whisper, unable to meet Severus’s eyes.

“Harry,” he heard him say softly and then he was suddenly enveloped in the man’s arms in a way that he hadn’t been for so long and he clung on so tightly that he was sure he was hurting the man. He felt a hand cradle his head while the other held him firmly in place and he buried his face in the man’s chest, breathing in the smell that was so familiar as so be harrowing.

He hadn’t been held like that for over a year, hadn’t had such close physical with someone who meant so much to him, and it was completely overwhelming. He could remember the first time Severus had wrapped him up in his arms, when one night the full horror of everything had weighed down on him and he’d just wanted to make it all stop. Severus had held him so tightly that he could feel every muscle beneath him, feel the man’s body as it hummed around him, and he’d known then how he felt about the man.

“I didn’t think I’d lose everything if I survived the war,” he murmured into the man’s chest.

“You haven’t lost everything,” Severus said softly but firmly.

“I lost you,” he replied, his voice quiet and small.

“I’m right here,” Severus insisted.

Harry shook his head against Severus’s chest and said, “Not like you were, not like _we_ were. I miss you so much, I miss those days, I miss _us_.”

He felt Severus hands on his shoulders and the man pushed him back slightly, fixing him with those black eyes as he said, “It’s not lost Harry.”

“Isn’t it?”

Severus stepped forward and Harry felt all his senses tingle as he leant down and captured Harry’s lips in the sweetest kiss imaginable. It was gentle and soft, nothing like anything that had happened between them before and the first kiss they had ever shared. Harry clung on to the man as he continued to kiss him softly, his lips earnest and insistent. He poured everything he had felt for so long into it and he could feel it changing from gentle to something more.

“We don’t do this,” he whispered as he broke away slightly.

“Tonight we do,” Severus said, taking his hand and leading him into the bedroom.

Harry felt his stomach flip over. After everything they had done, the many nights they had spent fucking with bruising intensity, this now felt insanely intimate, more so than anything that had gone before, and he felt nervous and shy. Severus placed a hand on his cheek and leant his head down to meet his lips once more and Harry’s eyes fluttered closed as he experienced a new kind of intensity that left him feeling completely undone.

He felt his shirt being unbuttoned and Severus slowly slipped it off his shoulders, his skin coming into contact with the cool air of his bedroom. Severus’ hands were on him and he moaned slightly as they ghosted over the sensitive skin of his back, touching and teasing, so gentle, so careful, sending delicious shivers throughout his body. He felt a tingle of magic and the rest of his clothes disappeared, along with Severus’ and he found himself pressed up against the man’s skin, his hardness coming into contact with the man’s own.

His heart was pounding, he could hear the blood rush in his ears and felt himself tingle all the way to his fingertips. Severus broke the kiss and pushed him back slightly towards the bed and slowly lowered them both onto it, Harry looking up at him in wonder, his breathing hard and ragged. He had never been face to face with Severus in these moments before, had never seen the look on the man’s face and the sight of him was so beautiful to Harry that he felt a swell of emotion in his chest. “Severus,” he whispered.

“Ssh, it’s ok,” Severus said, brushing the hair from Harry’s forehead. He leant down and began to press firm but gentle kisses to Harry’s throat and Harry arched upwards to give him better access. The trail continued down across his chest and Harry didn’t even bother to try and get his senses under control, he didn’t want to think, he just wanted to feel everything that Severus was doing to him, every last wonderful moment of it.

He felt the man’s mouth wrap around his erection and he reached out to grip the sheets as he was enveloped in warm wetness. “Oh God,” he moaned, as the man sucked and teased him, his hand coming in to meet the rhythm along with his mouth. It was so good, so obscenely good that Harry could have stayed like that forever, lost in his own pleasure, loving every minute of it.

“There’s…there’s a jar on the nightstand,” he said shakily and Severus looked up at him with a gleam in his eye that, under different circumstances, would have made Harry laugh. He held out his hand and summoned it wordlessly and Harry let his head fall back onto the pillow as one long, coated finger breached him, followed by a second then a third, stretching him, preparing him and sending his senses reeling.

Severus moved back up his body and Harry found himself being kissed again as Severus pushed gently inside him. It felt so wonderful that Harry couldn’t help but emit a breathy little sigh as the man moved in sure, firm thrusts. It was so achingly tender, so heartbreakingly exquisite that Harry felt like crying. This was what he had imagined all that time ago, this was what he had been so desperate for, and now he finally had it, it was as though some part of him, some part locked away deep down had been set free.

He rocked in time with the rhythm Severus had set, gripping the man’s shoulders tightly and moaning as each thrust angled itself perfectly to hit that spot just right. He was surrounded by Severus and he wrapped his legs around the man’s waist, drawing him in deeper as the pace sped up and he felt himself drawn to the edge. He hadn’t realised how much he had needed this, how long he had been waiting for this moment, and when he finally came, he came hard and with a sob that racked his whole body.

Severus held him tightly as his own orgasm hit him and they lay wrapped around one another, their breathing heavy, their bodies sticky and sweaty as they basked in the afterglow. Severus levered himself up on his elbow and pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead before saying, “See? Not lost, just a little mislaid.”

Harry smiled and nodded shakily. “Yes,” he agreed, “just mislaid.” 

* * *

When he awoke the next morning, he was alone, tangled in the sheets and bleary-eyed from the night before. He looked around for Severus and his eyes fell on a piece of parchment at the end of the bed. He grabbed his glasses off the nightstand and shoved them up his nose, picking up the piece of paper and reading.

_Harry,_

_Sorry to leave before you’d woken up, but I have a day full of lessons that I’m afraid I can’t miss, even for you. I’ll be finished at 6, see you later._

_Severus_

Harry read the words a couple of times. Severus had written “see you later” not as a question, but as a statement and for some reason that fact caused a very wide grin to spread across his face. He let his head fall back onto the pillow, feeling younger and freer than he had done in ages, smiling stupidly up at the ceiling.

He thought back to the previous night and bit his lip to keep his face from cracking. He hadn’t thought it was actually possible to feel so happy about one occasion, but for the first time in what felt like forever, he could see a glimpse of those old possibilities resurfacing on the horizon, and all he could think about was Severus.

The day was interminably long, and he had to keep coming up with tasks to keep himself occupied. He got so fed up of clock-watching that he eventually settled himself down and got to grips with writing up some lesson plans. The endeavour ended up being incredibly enjoyable and he spent a good while pawing through a few books that Remus had sent at his request. He’d spoken several times with his old mentor about the new challenge he was to be embarking upon in a few weeks’ time, and he was starting to feel very positive and excited about taking up his new role.

He wasn’t so engrossed in his task though that he didn’t register when the clock chimed 6, and he slammed his books shut and made his way down to the dungeons faster than he had ever done before, knocking into several students on the way and flinging his apologies over his shoulder at them.

He paused outside Severus’ door to compose himself, straightening out his clothing and making sure his glasses were sitting straight across the bridge of his nose, then gave a soft knock, bouncing slightly on his toes as he waited. Severus opened the door and Harry couldn’t believe how different it was to see him after what had happened. Harry smiled shyly and said, “Can I come in?”

Severus gave him a look as if to say “what do you think?” and stepped aside. Harry moved into the room and turned back around the face Severus as the man shut the door behind them. He felt nervous and excited, his stomach fluttering as Severus moved closer to him.

He had something to say though, and he wasn’t going to let his nerves get in the way. “You made love to me last night,” Harry said breathily.

Severus’s lip quirked slightly and he said, “I did.”

Harry smiled and gave a small nod, saying, “Does that mean that you…I mean are you…do you…”

Severus placed a hand on his cheek and dipped his head to meet Harry squarely in the eyes. “I do,” he said softly, “you know I do.”

“Say it,” Harry said in a whisper. “Please say it.”

Severus brushed his thumb across Harry’s cheekbone, the action so tender and familiar that it made him shiver. “Harry,” Severus said, keeping eye contact, “I love you.”

Harry closed his eyes and leant into the touch, feeling relief and elation wash over him. “I love you too,” he said, moving forward and wrapping himself around the man, feeling strong arms come up to encircle him. “I’ve loved you for such a long time, but I thought I’d lost you, I thought we’d lost what we had.”

“I told you last night, it was just a little mislaid,” Severus said softly into Harry’s hair. “We were all so broken after the war, we needed time to heal, to recover.”

“Tell me we won’t lose each other again?”

“Oh Harry, not if I have anything to do with it.”

_~*~ 4 years later ~*~_

It was a beautiful late summer’s day at the Burrow and the sound of laughter and glasses clinking filled the air. Harry stood between Ron and Draco, laughing as the 7-month-old baby on his hip kept trying to make a grab for his glasses.

“You’ve taught him to do this!” Harry protested as he ducked out of the way of the chubby little fist. “Freddie! Freddie stop that now,” he said with a laugh. “You broke the last pair you little devil.”

“Now that is no way to speak to your godson,” said Ron as he hauled his son off Harry’s hip and onto his own to save his friend from the boy’s attentions. “He’s just doing what we all do and questioning your fashion sense.”

“Don’t you put words in my godson’s mouth, he adores his Uncle Harry, don’t you Pup?” he said, tickling the little boy under the chin and eliciting a happy little giggle.

“Well, he doesn’t know better yet,” said Draco yet, sipping at his wine and gazing fondly at his husband and son. “Give him time, he’ll soon learn better.”

“I don’t know why I’m friends with you two I really don’t.”

“Are you two bothering my husband?” came a voice to his left and he turned to see Severus making his way across the lawn to them. He smiled, never tiring of hearing Severus refer to him as his husband, and wrapped an around the man’s waist, saying,

“They are, as usual.”

“He makes it too easy Sev,” said Ron with a grin. “And soon we’ll have Freddie well trained enough to join in the teasing. Oh look, here he goes, anytime Sev’s around it’s always the bloody same,” he said as the little boy starting reaching towards Severus, straining to move closer towards him.

Severus smirked and took him from Ron’s arms, saying, “I can’t be blamed because your son prefers me to you. Who wouldn’t?”

“Since day one it’s been the same,” said Ron, shaking his head in wonder, “he’s obsessed with you.”

“He has good taste,” said Harry with a smile.

“Oh Hermione’s arrived!” said Draco. “I’ll go and get her a drink, I’m dying to catch up with her.”

“Hang on a minute, I’ll come with you,” said Ron. “Are you alright keeping an eye on him for a while?” he asked, nodding his head towards Freddie.

“I think I can be trusted to keep my own godson alive for a few minutes,” said Severus with a quirk of his eyebrow and Ron grinned at him as he followed Draco up the garden towards Hermione.

Harry and Severus moved to take a seat on one of the many benches that had been scattered around the garden of the Burrow for the party that was being held in honour of Draco’s acceptance into St Mungo’s now that his time at medical school was over. He was thrilled about the job and even more thrilled that it allowed him to work whilst branching off into the specialised field of treating curses.

Ron was now a fully-fledged Auror and with the arrival of Freddie 7 months prior, their little family was complete. They were continuing to live in the cottage, and were intending to buy it off the family friend who had rented it to them in the first place, once they managed to scrape a few decent funds together. Freddie was Molly’s first grandchild and she was delighted that Ron and Draco lived so close, and she was invaluable to them when it came to childcare.

“It’s such a beautiful day today,” said Harry as he turned his face up towards the warm sunshine. “It’s so unfair that school’s starting again in a couple of weeks.”

“You sound like one of your students,” said Severus with a smile as he shifted Freddie so he sat more comfortably in his lap.

“None of my students complain about attending my lessons,” he said with a smirk, and it was true. Harry was as good a teacher as everyone had expected him to become, and he had truly thrived in the role. It was tiring and deeply involving, but it was one of the most fulfilling things he’d ever done in his life, and he couldn’t now imagine having any other career.

He and Severus had been married a little over two years ago and they had set up home in Severus’ quarters. A few months later they had bought the little cottage in Cumbria from Severus’ friend and kept it as their little bolt hole, a quiet little haven away from the rest of the world.

The early days of their relationship had been difficult and, at times, stormy ones, but they were so in love and so committed to making it work that they had come through them stronger and with a fierce will to stay together. They still had their arguments and things weren’t always sunny between them, but the love they shared was so strong and enduring that it didn’t really matter.

“It still seems so weird that Ron and Draco are parents,” said Harry, gazing down at the gorgeous little boy. “I wish I could use Hermione’s time turner and go back to when we were in 4th year and tell them that one day they’d be happily married with a little boy. I think they’d both punch my lights out.”

“As you would have done if someone went back and told you you’d be married to me.”

Harry laughed and said, “That’s true. I would never have believed that.”

“Makes you have to pinch yourself sometimes doesn’t it?”

Harry nodded, smiling softly at his husband. “There were times I thought we’d never make it,” he said quietly. “Now here we are and I don’t have to sit and seethe with jealousy over Ron and Draco, although,” he said, addressing Freddie as the little boy grabbed his fingers, “you’re enough to make anyone jealous.”

“Well, we could do something about that,” Severus said softly and Harry looked up at him, trying to read the look in the man’s eyes.

Harry’s breath caught in his throat slightly and said, “What are you saying?”

Severus smiled and gave a shrug that was meant to look nonchalant and said, “I don’t see why Ron and Draco should have all the fun, and if ours likes me as much as Freddie does then it should be a breeze.”

“Ours?” Harry echoed in amazement.

“Do you want to?”

Harry smiled and close the space between them, pressing his lips against Severus’ as he whispered, “Yes, let’s do it.”


End file.
